


The Best Policy

by Scrawlers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Bom!Lotor, Keitor Appreciation Zine, M/M, Romance, locked in a room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: While on a mission to the planet Ketyllia, Lotor and Keith discover a massive temple. The temple is impressive, but apparently abandoned—at least, it seems that way until Lotor and Keith find themselves locked inside.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All three chapters of this piece were written for the Keitor Appreciation Zine "Mixed Blood", which was released today and can be downloaded **for free** [right here!](https://keitorzine.tumblr.com/post/175402282367/mixed-blood-download-link-its-been-a-long-wait) I highly encourage everyone to download the zine. There are a ton of beautiful art pieces contained within, as well as the work of many skilled writers. A lot of love went into this zine, and it absolutely shows.
> 
> That said, this three chapter work is my contribution. I hope everyone enjoys it!

The planet Ketyllia brimmed with quintessence.

Every planet flourished from quintessence. Quintessence was the energy of life itself; it breathed life into the soul of every atom of the universe. But some planets had more quintessence than others, and of them all Ketyllia reigned supreme. The first breath one took of Ketyllia’s atmosphere would be enough to make them dizzy from what felt like a natural high; the flora on the planet’s surface thrived with such energy that their colors were radiant. Everything on Ketyllia practically glowed. As they strode across the vibrant, royal blue grass and brushed aside giant, vivid orange leaves that draped from the massive trees that populated the jungle they had landed in, both Lotor and Keith felt as though their eyes were taking in colors they had never seen before.

It was the high concentration of quintessence that was making Lotor’s heart drum a rapid beat in his chest, his blood surging beneath his skin. But he thought, too, that it was the proximity of the opportunity that was making adrenaline rush through him.

For decaphoebs he had planned to investigate Ketyllia. By all accounts, Ketyllia was uninhabited, and it was this which allowed it to escape Empire notice for so long. There were no people to enslave or subjugate, no one to slaughter; Ketyllia was so quiet as to be unnoticed despite how its quintessence was a beacon for anyone who came near. But Lotor had planned, once the Sincline ships were finished, to investigate it with his generals—to see if there was a way to harvest at least _some_ of its quintessence without draining it dry (or alerting the Empire to what they were doing). Of course, that plan had fallen apart; Narti had died, the others had betrayed him, and Lotor himself had sought asylum with the Blade of Marmora following the fallout. All of his plans had been put on hold for the time being. But through careful maneuvering he had managed to place Ketyllia on Kolivan’s radar, and through good behavior and nonchalant suggestions he’d arranged it so that Kolivan had sent Keith and Lotor himself to investigate. They were there to see if there was any life on Ketyllia—any who might wish to ally in the fight against the Empire.

Lotor hadn’t stopped smiling since that morning.

But although he was eager to learn all he could, thus far their trip had proven uneventful. They had landed his ship at the edge of a sprawling jungle, and in the absence of any major cities to explore, they had decided to simply make their way through it. The jungle itself, despite being densely packed with trees of red bark and deep grass, was as unpopulated as the whole planet was said to be. There were insects; every now and then Lotor heard one creak. But there were no animals he could see, nor were there any people. As he and Keith made their way among the trees, alert for any stray sound or suspicious movement, all they heard was the sound of the wind through the leaves, and their own footsteps crushing the twigs that littered the jungle floor.

“This is so weird,” Keith said at one point. Lotor had looked over to see that Keith had craned his head back, and was staring at the saffron-colored canopy above. “It’s like everything that lived here just . . . died.”

Lotor had been unable to keep his bemusement from his voice as he’d asked, “How can a planet so full of life make you think of death?”

Keith had looked over at him, then, and shrugged. “It’s just weird that there aren’t even any animals. No space jaguars, or anything.” He had looked away again, back among the trees, and a faint smile had crossed his face as he swiped his hand along the smooth bark of a nearby one. “It’s nice, though.”

Lotor hadn’t been quite sure what to make of that.

The majority of their trek through the jungle was made in companionable quiet. It wasn’t until they reached the jungle’s edge that that changed. Keith, upon noticing that the trees had started to thin, jogged a little ahead; and when he reached the edge of the jungle and got a glimpse of what lay beyond, he stopped and turned back.

“Hey,” he said. “I thought you said this planet was uninhabited?”

Lotor felt his heart skip, as though he had missed a step descending stairs. “It is, as far as I’m aware. Have we got company?”

“Not exactly.” Keith waved a hand to gesture for Lotor to catch up, and with the type of excitement that only ever came from a new discovery thrumming through his veins, Lotor jogged the last few paces to come up beside Keith. “But if no one lives here, then I want to know who built _that_.”

The jungle broke into a sizable clearing, in the center of which stood a monumental temple.

Lotor felt his breath catch in his chest.

The temple was . . . magnificent was the only way to describe it at first glance. One look made it apparent that it was at least three stories; an impressive stone staircase led up to a large, square entrance unguarded by a door or obstructions of any kind. The windows, too, were similarly open. The temple itself was constructed from tan stone that almost glowed golden beneath the light of the Ketyllian suns, but although the stone looked smooth, it didn’t look worn. It shone like it was new, but _new_ felt hardly like the right word to use. _Timeless_ , Lotor thought, was much more accurate.

“What do you think?” Keith asked. Lotor blinked once so he could tear his eyes away from the temple, and looked over to see that Keith was watching him with raised eyebrows. “Think someone lives here after all?”

“Or perhaps they _did_ , once,” Lotor said. “From this distance, it’s impossible to say how old this temple truly is.”

“From this distance,” Keith repeated. He said the words with a slow specificity that brought to mind highlights and underlines, and as he spoke a small smile unfurled on his lips that Lotor was sure reflected his own.

“Well,” Lotor said, “it would be both a waste and an abandonment of our mission to not take a closer look after coming all this way. Besides which, if there _is_ anyone here, then it’s only prudent we stop in and say hello. It would be rude to do otherwise.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Keith said. His small smile had transformed into a full-blown grin, curiosity and excitement shining like sparks in his eyes. He started toward the temple, walking backward at first so that he never broke eye contact with Lotor, and said, “Let’s do it.”

As with the jungle, the temple was silent as they approached—entirely still, as if frozen. But the moment they approached the staircase—rather, the _tick_ they set foot on the bottommost step—that changed. Brilliant white-green light cascaded from where the soles of their boots met stone; it spread in thin lines along the step, drawn in intricate runes that covered the single stair they had touched, but no others.

“Whoa,” Keith said, and he looked at Lotor with wide eyes. “What is that?”

“I’m not certain,” Lotor said. He squatted down and brushed his fingers across the runes. There was no change, but he could feel them buzzing, a soft tingle through the gloves of his Marmora uniform. “It may be a security system. Perhaps the inhabitants of this temple, should they still exist, have been alerted to our presence.”

Keith didn’t reply immediately. The pair of them remained still for a moment, listening hard, but were met with no sounds other than the rustle of wind and leaves as before. After a moment, Keith said, “If they have, they’re not doing anything about it. Maybe they know we’re not a threat?”

“Or they’re waiting to lure us inside for an ambush.” Lotor rose back to his full height, and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as he met Keith’s eyes. “Shall we investigate further to test our respective hypotheses?”

Keith slipped his knife from the sheath on his belt, and flashed a tight smile Lotor’s way. “Let’s.”

Each subsequent stair they took up to the entrance of the temple had bright, white-green runes cast over it the moment their feet connected. When they made it to the temple entrance itself, those same runes spread out over the floor, unfurling like an intricate web across the stone, snaking up along the inner walls.

That was only half of what made the temple so fascinating.

The entrance hall was as spacious as it was colossal. It was one massive room that, at least on the primary floor, had nothing in it but a large basin built on a pedestal resting dead center. But the entrance hall was not all there was to the temple; just as there were windows lining the outer walls (yet too high up to see into from outside), there were doorways as well. A few of the doors were on the ground level, yet all but the one in the very back were closed off by thick doors that bore no handles. The rest were on the second or third floors of the temple, which looked less like entire _floors_ and more like balconies for how they lined the walls, with each one only wrapping halfway around the entrance hall, at that. That alone would have been interesting construction, yet even it was only half as interesting as the fact that the staircases that led to the second and third floors were each broken. They were attached to the floors themselves, yet broke off before either of them reached ground level. This didn’t _appear_ purposeful; the breaks were not clean or even. But there was no evidence to indicate they had been shattered, either. There was no dust, nor were there pieces of broken stone littering the floor. Instead, the stairs simply _stopped_.

“Weird,” Keith said, as though he could hear Lotor’s thoughts.

Lotor nodded. “Quite.”

He made his way to the basin in the center of the room. Unlike everything else, the basin was untouched by the white-green runes. Moreover, it was pale grey in color, and comprised of a different ore than the rest of the temple—one that his scanner, after a quick check, couldn’t identify. Lotor frowned, and ran his finger along the rim. There was no reaction. The basin was bone dry, and there didn’t seem to be a way of filling it with liquid. It wouldn’t separate from the pedestal, either.

“Should we keep going?”

Lotor looked up to find that Keith was already headed toward the room in the very back of the temple, walking backwards once again so that he could face Lotor as they talked. Lotor glanced back down at the basin (it almost looked as though there were words carved around the rim, so tiny he had to squint to see them), yet then tore his eyes away and nodded.

“Yes,” he said, and Keith slowed just enough to allow Lotor to match pace with him again. “Let’s.”

The runes, having already spread through the main hall, didn’t follow their footsteps as they made their way toward the only open doorway in the back of the room. But when they crossed the threshold into a room that looked even more impressively empty than the previous one, two things happened at once:

One, the white-green runes once again cascaded over the floor, walls, and ceiling of the new room they entered.

And two, a door slammed shut behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

The _tick_ the door slammed shut, the loud crash of stone echoing through the room with enough force to make his teeth rattle, Lotor grasped the hilt of his sword in a grip tight enough to make his fingers ache, every muscle in his body tense.

Keith, on the other hand, doubled back to throw himself against the door. Like the doors sealing off the other rooms in the temple, this one was perfectly smooth; it had no handle, nor any other indication of how to open it.

“What the hell, how do we get it open?” Keith demanded. He ran his hands along the edges of the door, working his fingers as though trying to find a groove with which he could force the door back open. “And what triggered it in the first place? Why’d it close?”

“It must have been a trap,” Lotor said tersely. When Keith looked back at him, Lotor looked away. Floor to ceiling, there didn’t appear to be a way out other than the way they had entered. There weren’t even any windows. In the absence of them, the room was almost eerily dark; the only light came from the intricate runes all around them. “It sensed our presence the moment we entered and sealed us inside.”

“Why?” Keith asked. “What’s the use in trapping us here? If it’s a security system, why not boot us out, or attack us or something?”

“I wish I had an answer. Unfortunately, I don’t.”

Lotor forced a deep exhale, fighting to work the tension from his muscles. Keith’s questions raised a good point. There was no immediate threat, no one seeking to attack them. He could make himself relax a fraction, and calm down enough to seek a way out.

Something which, he noticed with a glance over his shoulder, Keith was already doing.

Having abandoned the door, Keith was examining the walls. As he did that, Lotor looked to the center of the room. Unlike the main hall, this room lacked a pedestal or basin. But now that his eyes had adjusted, and that he was calmer, he could see that it wasn’t quite _empty;_ while most of the room was smooth, the floor in the very center of the room had a little, raised bump. And when he crouched down to examine it, he saw that the bump was caused by one of the floor tiles being raised just a notch above the rest. There was a crack, too, along one corner—a missing piece. It was just enough to accommodate a finger or two.

Lotor wedged his fingers into the opening, and pried the tile up from the others.

Once it was removed from the floor, the tile lost the runes that had previously marked it. But when he flipped it over in his hands, Lotor saw that it didn’t need them. There was writing on the back of the tile, transcribed in a script he didn’t recognize. He set it at his feet, and after letting his scanner capture a copy of the script, ran it through his translator.

“What’d you find?”

Despite his focus on the running translation in the projection above his wrist, Lotor’s lips twitched as Keith walked over to join him. Keith was never one to waste time or words. Rather than force Lotor to repeat the obvious, he’d skipped right over _did you find something_ , and instead inquired after what Lotor had found. It was an admirable quality on what was already a long list.

“That remains to be seen,” Lotor said. “With any luck, it will be instructions on how to disarm the trap.”

His translator sounded a soft _beep_ , and Keith crawled around to crouch close to Lotor as they both peered at the holographic display.

“ _'_ _Our rooms are bare, the last stone turned_ ,’” Lotor read aloud. _“‘You have had your chance to learn. If you are here, there is one reason why: We do not like those who lie. If you show us yours, we’ll show you ours; bare your souls, or be the next that time_ _devours.'"_

They sat in silence for a few ticks, Lotor turning the words over again and again in his mind as he worked through them, until Keith said at length, “I didn’t realize this was _Legends of the Hidden Temple_. Why can’t they just _tell us_ what we need to do to get out of here?”

“This temple wasn’t very hidden, even accounting for the jungle,” Lotor said, not taking his eyes off the display.

Keith huffed a sigh. “No, not—it’s an old TV show back on—”

“And I believe this riddle _has_ told us what we need to do to escape.” Keith fell silent, waiting, and in the absence of a continued explanation, Lotor said, “It seems this room . . . or whoever built this room . . . is looking for some degree of emotional honesty.” He paused, then amended, “Or at least a display of it.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “What kind of display? Like talking about how we feel?”

Lotor closed his translator, the holographic display blinking out. “That’s a valid assumption.”

Keith worked his jaw, his frown deepening, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s none of this room’s business how I feel.”

Despite the situation, Lotor almost felt like laughing. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

In lieu of baring feelings of any kind, Lotor and Keith returned to examining the room. But it yielded no other answers; there were no crevices or hidden passageways to be found in any of the walls. Moreover, though Lotor was still able to use his scanner and translator devices, their communicators had ceased functioning. The moment they entered the room, they lost all signal.

“Guess this is where the ‘devoured by time’ part comes in,” Keith said after a while. Once again they were by the upturned tile, Lotor seated, Keith lying on his back. “If we sit here long enough, we’ll starve.”

“Or asphyxiate, if this room is airtight,” Lotor said. “Though I don’t believe it is. The air quality doesn’t seem to be thinning.”

“That’s something,” Keith said. After a moment before he added, “But there are worse people to starve with. Or suffocate with. Whatever.”

“What?”

Keith was quiet for a tick, yet then propped himself up on his forearms. “We need to be honest, right?” he asked, and when Lotor raised his eyebrows, he averted his eyes to look at the floor instead. “I don’t know if this will help, but . . . whatever. If it doesn’t, we’ll die anyway. So . . .” Keith took a deep breath, and then met Lotor’s eyes again. “You’re the one that told Kolivan about this planet. And you said you wanted to go on this mission with me, right? Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Lotor stared at Keith for a moment. It was such an odd— “You’re thanking me for bringing you to your death?”

Keith huffed a laugh. “No. For wanting to . . . you know. Go on a solo mission with me. No one ever really . . .” He shrugged. “It’s just not something I’m used to.”

“Why not?”

Keith didn’t answer.

Despite the months they had spent together as fellow agents of the Blade, there was something about Keith that Lotor had yet to puzzle out. Keith was, at one time, a Paladin of Voltron; he was the one who had piloted the Black Lion during the conflicts Lotor had with the Paladins, and prior to doing so, he had piloted Red. Yet Keith had left Voltron of his own volition; in his words, it was because he felt he could do more good with the Blade than he could with the Paladins. While Lotor did not doubt that was true, what remained a mystery was why the Paladins had agreed to let him leave in the first place—why they would ever let someone like Keith go.

“Well,” Lotor said, in the absence of Keith saying anything more, “if I may reward your honesty with my own . . .” He paused, and when he was sure he had Keith’s attention, said, “When I first learned of this planet, I had intended to explore it with my generals. We never had the chance before . . . everything ended, but while I of course do still wish I could have the opportunity to make things right with them . . . I don’t regret not visiting before now.”

“Well, yeah,” Keith said, a note of wry amusement in his voice. “You got to live a little longer because of it.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Lotor said. “What I meant was that of all the people I could have chosen to accompany me here, there is no one else I would rather have with me here now than you.”

Keith stared at him for a moment before he finally sat up the rest of the way. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Lotor watched him for a moment before he asked, “Why is that so difficult to believe?”

Even in the dim light, it looked as though Keith’s cheeks flushed. “I . . . don’t know. It’s just . . .” He fell quiet a moment before he said, “For what it’s worth, I . . . feel the same. These past few months, I . . .” He looked up, and their eyes met. “I’ve . . . really come to like you, too.”

It felt as though an impossibly powerful, clawed fist had suddenly seized Lotor’s heart in his chest. Whether the room had air or not ceased to matter; he understood the words that Keith had said, but the order in which he had said them—and the fact that they were directed at _him_ —was more difficult to process. Keith . . . he had said that he _liked_ Lotor. That he _really_ liked him, and that . . . that was . . .

“Lotor?” Keith asked, his brow furrowed again. “You okay?”

Lotor tried to unstick his throat enough to respond, but it felt impossible. Keith liked him, _genuinely_ liked him, and . . . well, of course Keith was being genuine. Keith was always genuine. It was yet another one of his many admirable qualities. He had a strong sense of honor, and so much determination it was sometimes doubtful death itself could stop him. He was clever, capable, courageous, and strong. He had a dry sense of humor, but also, at times, a somewhat off-beat one. He had vouched for giving Lotor a chance when no one else was willing, and even now, despite being trapped in a room until eventual death with him, Keith was still . . . he _still_ . . .

“Lotor?” Keith pressed, and he leaned a little closer. “Hey, what’s—?”

“I . . .” Lotor began, but stopped. They were closer now. So close. Perhaps too close, but not if—

_I’ve really come to like you, too._

It was a sentiment, like so many between them, that was mutual. Lotor knew that, even if until that moment he hadn’t realized how much. And that—

A flash of light from the other side of the room sliced through his thoughts like a blazing sword. As one, Lotor and Keith turned in time to see that the white-green runes on the back wall had shifted and changed. They now formed a rectangular shape the same size as the door, the rune lines criss-crossing over it in the same pattern as well. And though the wall had been perfectly smooth when Keith and Lotor had examined it before, now a low, grinding rumble filled the room as the newly marked door began to slowly rise. Lotor and Keith rose with it, pushing themselves to their feet, and when the new door finished rising and gave way to a dark, descending staircase just beyond, Keith turned to Lotor.

“Guess we solved it,” he said. “Somehow.”

“Yes,” Lotor agreed. “I suppose we did.”

It was strange. They had needed an exit; they would have starved to death without one. Yet now that one had appeared, all Lotor could think . . . all he could _feel_ was that he wished it had waited just another couple ticks.

“Well, no way to go but down,” Keith said. If he felt the same way Lotor did, he didn’t show it. Instead, he started toward the staircase, yet lingered just long enough to toss a grin over his shoulder. “On to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey.”

Whatever awaited them, Lotor doubted it was a shrine to any sort of creature, silver or otherwise. But he said nothing, and instead followed Keith down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The stairs had opened into a vast underground city.

Despite being so far underground, there was no shortage of light. The white-green runes—pure quintessence, Lotor had realized—continued to spread across the ground and around the walls of buildings, flowing across the cavernous roof ahead. Vehicles shaped like small spacecrafts shot along rails that served as streets, and they, too, were powered by quintessence.

“Looks like we left _Legends of the Hidden Temple_ and went straight into _Tron_ ,” Keith had said.

Lotor hadn’t known what Tron was, and he was not given the opportunity to ask. Before either of them could wander off, one of the small crafts had zoomed up to greet them. It had no driver, but the display at the front of the craft made it clear that it was on autopilot. And given that it only had two seats, it was clear enough that it had been sent for them.

The planet Ketyllia was not uninhabited. Its cities—for there were _so many_ —spanned the length of the planet. The temple they had found gave way to the capital city. The craft that had been sent for them had taken them to a massive dome-shaped building in the center of the city, where the Ketyllian Elder had greeted them. And there, they had learned that not only did the Elder know precisely who they were (by an uncomfortable degree; Lotor had fought against a fight-or-flight instinct that had flared within him based on how much the Elder seemed to know), but she also knew what they wanted, and she knew, too, that she and her people would never give it.

“We have not only existed, but _lived_ for thousands of years by never involving ourselves in intergalactic conflicts,” she had said. “We know what transpires on your planets, among your stars. We will have no part in it.”

“You don’t have to fight,” Keith had said. “We’re not asking for that. But if you have anything—”

“We do not,” the Elder had said.

“Your planet overflows with quintessence,” Lotor had said. “You have quantities unparalleled. A fraction of what you have here could end galra hunger for quintessence and bring an end to millennia of subjugation and warfare. All we ask—”

“I know what you ask,” the elder had interrupted, and Lotor had curled his hands into fists, “and the answer is ‘no.’”

“Why won’t you hear him out?” Keith had said, and the frustration in his voice had matched what Lotor had felt in his own heart. “You could save billions of lives—”

“Those lives are not ours to save. We will remain uninvolved in your conflicts. We will only ever observe,” the Elder had said.

“So you’ll observe people dying, but you won’t help them?” Keith had demanded.

“Nor will we harm them,” the Elder had replied, inclining her head.

“By refusing to offer aid when you are able, one could say you _are_ harming them, even if indirectly,” Lotor had said.

“One could say that, yes,” the Elder had agreed.

In the end, nothing they said managed to sway her opinion. When Keith had angrily demanded why she had even invited them to the city, the Elder had merely smiled and said that she hadn’t. They passed the test of the temple, and thus the city revealed itself to them—it had accepted them, offered them a chance to see not only the truth, but to seek a new life. There were Ketyllians, she had explained, who had come to the planet and decided to stay—who sought new lives away from the conflicts that plagued and devastated the rest of the universe, or even away from smaller hurts of deceit and corruption.

“We live our truths here,” the Elder had said. “All of us. There are no secrets among Ketyllians.”

It was a paltry sentiment, Lotor thought. He had made an emotional admission to himself, at least, with regards to how he felt about Keith, but there was so much more he could have said but didn’t. There were far more secrets he kept close to his chest. And if he knew Keith—and he felt that he did—he could say the same held true for him, as well.

But there was nothing to be gained by remaining in the city. Neither Lotor nor Keith had any desire to live there, and the Elder refused to give them aid. Before they had left, Lotor had paused by the door to her chambers, and had looked back.

“Let’s say the Empire learns of your planet,” he had said, “and they decide to make use of it. How will you guard your quintessence against the likes of the Komar?”

The Elder had smiled. “You have chosen to leave, haven’t you, Prince Lotor?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should know: There are no secrets among Ketyllians, but we do not bare our souls to outsiders. Our defenses are ours, just as yours are yours.”

“You have something that can stop the Komar?” Keith had asked, and Lotor had stepped aside to allow him to see into the room again more easily.

“We have reason to not be concerned about the Komar,” the Elder had said. “That is all you need to know.”

“But if you have something that can stop the Komar, other planets can use that,” Keith had said, his voice rising again. “Entire planets are— _people_ are _dying_ —!”

“That is all you need to know,” the Elder had repeated, and her guards had moved forward to usher Keith and Lotor out of the room after that.

Keith had lasted until they had been transported back to the stairs that led up to the temple before he had exploded. “I can’t believe we’re just leaving it like this! How can anyone be so selfish? They could help so many people, and they’re just—!”

“This isn’t over,” Lotor had said, in a voice low enough so that only Keith could hear. Keith had looked at him, eyes wide, and the brightness in them had looked more like hope than the fury that had been there just a moment prior. “Believe me when I say I do not intend to let this end here. We will return, but first we should meet with Kolivan to discuss what we’ve discovered.”

Keith had nodded, and had fallen silent. Lotor could tell by the look on his face that he was mulling things over, and perhaps even devising plans and strategies of his own for how to deal with the Ketyllians in the future. The idea didn’t surprise Lotor, and if anything, it excited him; whatever Keith had in mind, Lotor could honestly say he couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

But the silence between them lasted the length of the trek up the stairs, and lasted even after they returned to the temple. The door to the city closed behind them, and the quintessence runes left it. The door leading back out to the temple proper was once again open. Lotor wondered if they would be tested again if they left and re-entered; he wondered whether it was the Elder who had manually triggered the test in the first place. And he wondered, too, what might have happened had the door to the stairs not opened when it did, and if that was on _Keith’s_ mind as well, with the way he hesitated upon first re-entering the room, his eyes trained on the spot where they had sat.

But neither of them had said anything. Instead, they continued through the temple, back out through the main hall, through the entryway, and down the front steps. It wasn’t until their boots touched grass again and they started back toward the jungle that Keith stopped and said, “Hey—Lotor.”

Lotor paused, and turned back. “What is it?”

Keith locked eyes with him. After a moment, he said, “I just wanted to say—I meant what I said back there. In the room, before the door opened.”

Lotor’s heart missed a beat, but he smiled as though it didn’t. “As did I. The door wouldn’t have opened otherwise. We were required to be honest, after all.”

A faint smile flickered across Keith’s face. “Yeah. Guess it did. But I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Another missed heartbeat. “Why?”

Keith shrugged, and looked away. “Just did.”

Silence, once again punctuated only by the rustle of the leaves through the jungle trees. Lotor’s heart was still missing beats, and Keith, he could tell, was waiting for something. For something . . .

Lotor clenched his fists, then relaxed them, and closed the distance between them.

“I should amend what I said,” he said, and when Keith looked back to meet his eyes, continued, “The door to the Ketyllian city opened before I was given a chance to reply. I think it may have sensed my answer before I was able to give it.”

Several questions burned in Keith’s eyes, but after a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “What answer?”

“You said that you have come to . . . like me,” Lotor said, and when Keith nodded, he felt another spasm in his chest. “I wished to tell you that I find you to be . . . exceptional. Not only for what you’re capable of, but for who you are. Of all the people I’ve known, you stand apart in the most remarkable way.” Lotor paused, then said, “There is no telling where our respective paths will lead us. Whether we will continue to work alongside each other, or whether our goals will necessitate separation.”

Keith frowned. “Lotor—”

“But I hope,” Lotor continued, “that if our paths do diverge, they come together again at a future point. I . . . _can_ envision a future without you. But for me, it is one that is barren of appeal.”

Keith’s frown dissipated. His eyes widened, his mouth open just so. Yet in the next tick, something changed; Keith’s brow knitted together in the middle, his eyes burning, his mouth pressed in a thin line. And in the next beat—

Lotor tensed, fight-or-flight flaring again as Keith abruptly grabbed the collar of his Marmora uniform and tugged him downward. But it wasn’t an attack; Lotor was pulled down with such immediacy that it took him a moment to realize that Keith had pushed _himself up_ as well, enough so that their lips met as Keith transferred one of his hands to the back of Lotor’s neck.

Lotor’s heart went supernova.

His mouth moved not against, but _with_ Keith’s as his eyes closed. He threaded the fingers of one hand through Keith’s hair, and placed his other on Keith’s waist, tugging him closer. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he felt Keith’s lips smile against his own.

When Keith pulled back, Lotor followed; their one kiss turned into several smaller ones, and even when Keith finally rested back on his feet, a smile like a Ketyllian sun on his face, Lotor kept one hand on his waist.

“We’ll find a way,” Keith said, with the same confidence he used when he talked about what he was _going_ to do on missions, before or after Kolivan explicitly told him not to. “Whatever happens, we’ll find a way to make it work. We won’t have to split up.”

Desire was a lethal thing. Of all the things Lotor had learned over time, the most prominent lesson—the one that came back to him again, and again, and _again_ —was that it was dangerous to _want_ certain things, particularly if those things were things such as companionship, friendship, or love.

But Keith had a way about him. His very soul burned with determination that was more convincing than any formula the universe had yet to produce. And while it could not convince Lotor utterly—while he could not let himself wholly believe it—it was enough to inspire him to smile just a little, nonetheless, as he took Keith’s hand in his own.

“I do hope you’re right,” he said.


End file.
